Serenity and the Slayer
by Lady Aura
Summary: Karma comes back to kick Mal in the butt when a stranger's ship radios requesting medical assistance. FireflyBtVS.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:** Well! A new story. Not sure if I'm going to be updating this one much (or at all). It entirely depends on this chapter's reception. So, if you like it, review! You know you want to anyway, I swear, some of you have sooooo much to say...

**Timeline: **This takes place after Firefly. Book and Inara have left the ship. Serenity the movie will not happen in this universe; it goes AU from here. (I like Wash too much.) As for Buffy, well, you'll see how they fit in eventually.

**Disclaimer:** If you think I own _any_ of these characters, you need a reality check. Don't sue me, my bank account only has $7.77 and I don't get paid for another week.

* * *

Zoë quietly let herself onto the bridge, listening to her errant husband muttering softly to himself. A small smile graced her full lips as she leaned against the now-closed door, arms crossed, watching Wash as he re-enacted an epic battle with his toy dinosaurs. She stayed like that for quite a while, observing, before Wash happened to look up and spot her.

"Wife!" he exclaimed gleefully. "Come, sit with me. Watch as worlds are created and destroyed at my whim, for I am the God of Plastic Dinosaurs!" He followed this absurd pronouncement with a cackle that was probably intended to sound evil. The whole thing was so ridiculous that Zoë just had to shut him up – by plopping herself down onto his lap and kissing him senseless, of course.

They were about to move into their room, navigational duties be damned, when the ship's computer began beeping insistently at them. Wash had just enough time to pull his lips off of Zoë's and shoot the console a dirty look when the proximity alarm went off as well. Immediately, Zoë was off his lap and in the co-pilot's chair, pulling down the shirt that had been rucked up around her ribs. She ran her hands over her face and hair, expertly removing all traces of an embarrassing liaison, then pressed the intercom button.

"Sir, proximity alert coupled with a distress beacon. Better get up here."

Her Captain's disembodied voice came floating over the intercom.

"Find out what they want – I'll be up in a tic."

Zoë shrugged and nodded to Wash, who opened up the communications channel.

"Unidentified ship," he began, "the is the Firefly-class Serenity. We received a distress beacon. What's the problem?"

There was static for a long moment. Just as Wash was getting ready to repeat the message, the screen flickered, and a woman's face appeared.

Zoë and Wash exchanged surprised glances.

She was young, far younger than any ship's pilot Wash had ever met – she couldn't have been much older than twenty. Straight, fiery red hair framed a pale, pretty face and worried green eyes.

"Serenity, this is the Swallow-class Slayer. We have a medical emergency on board and no doctor of any sort. Requesting immediate assistance."

"Slayer, please stand by," Wash said as he closed the channel, trying not to smirk at the presumptuous name. Mal burst into the room at just that moment.

"What've we got?" he asked brusquely, as Zoë vacated her chair for him.

"Swallow-class, sir, with a medical emergency." she said as he sat.

"Swallow-class?" he asked. "Ain't they Alliance craft?"

"An older model, Cap'," Wash informed him, "and civilian besides. That bird's got no guns."

"Don't matter none, if'n they're Alliance-friendly. Can't help them in a medical emergency without the Doc." Zoë pointed out.

Mal nodded distractedly, re-opening the channel.

"This is Captain Reynolds of Serenity. Explain th' _nature_ of your emergency."

The girl's face appeared on the viewscreen again, this time annoyed as well as worried.

"It's a medical emergency, Captain Reynolds. We need a _doctor_." She spoke as if he were a little slow in the brain-pan. Mal lifted his eyes to the ceiling in exasperation.

"I _meant_, be more specific."

"Oh." She didn't blush, but she had the good grace to look a little sheepish. "A seventeen-year-old girl has a bullet in her ribs," she clarified.

Mal blinked.

"Wash, get us over there. Zoë, get Doc, tell him what's going on."

"But sir," Zoë protested, "we don't know if this is –"

"Gorramit, Zoë, I ain't gonna sit 'round here while some ruttin' little girl bleeds to death. Move!" he replied. Zoë moved, but not far before Mal turned and caught her arm.

"And tell him to get his sister out o' sight, hear?" he muttered. Zoë nodded and was gone.

"Slayer, prepare for docking." Wash called over the com channel. Mal gave him an eyebrow as he closed the channel again.

"Slayer?"

Wash just shrugged.

* * *

With Zoë and Jayne flanking him, looking their usual intimidating selves and fully armed, Mal felt a little better about opening the door to the airlock. Still, his trigger finger twitched as he watched the door slide open to reveal two figures on the other side.

It was another young woman and an older man, both dressed casually with no weapons to be seen. They up their hands to demonstrate this point.

Mal nodded to Jayne and Zoë, who moved forward to frisk the newcomers. The two rolled their eyes at each other but did not protest, and Mal took the opportunity to study them.

The woman was petite and blonde, with a sweet, almost childish face and rather haunted big brown eyes. Mal noticed that though she couldn't have been any older than the redhead who was piloting their craft, she carried herself like a warrior. The man was much the same; in his late thirties or maybe early forties, with a slightly receding hairline and clothes that would have not looked out of place in Simon's wardrobe. Yet the eyes behind the wire-framed glasses were sharp, piercing; and he also carried himself with the confidence of a trained fighter. Interesting.

The frisking done, both Zoë and Jayne gave him a nod to affirm that neither were packing. Jayne was shooting Zoë hurt glares, possibly because she had gotten to the blonde before him.

"Well. Good to see folks that keep their word. Captain Malcom Reynolds. This here is Zoë and Jayne."

The girl smiled and took his hand. "Bethany Giles, but call me Buffy. And this is Rupert Giles, my uncle."

"Pleasure." the man said. He had a soft voice and a very cultured accent.

Buffy jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the airlock door. "Now will you see to my sister before she bleeds to death?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Ask and ye shall receive! Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Oh, and for those of you who pointed out my mistakes in various eye colors, thank you – I did listen and it's all different from here on out, but I'm too lazy to go back and change the first chapter right now.

**Disclaimer: **Really, really, not mine.

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**Chapter 2**

"How is she, Doctor?" Rupert asked as Simon came out of the infirmary, wiping his just-washed hands.

"Well," Simon said, "she's lucky. The bullet only grazed a rib and hit her right lung near the bottom; I was able to get it out and close the hole in her lung. She'll have a little pain when she breathes, but her ribs should heal fairly quickly, and she should be completely back to normal in a month or two. Even the scar will be pretty small."

Rupert and Buffy let out sighs of relief.

"Can we see her?" Buffy asked. Simon nodded.

"Sure. But she's sleeping now. We shouldn't wake her for at least a day; she lost a lot of blood."

Buffy shrugged and got up. Rupert also stood, catching her hand.

"I'm going to check on the others, maybe spell Willow so she can come see our girl."

Buffy nodded to him and went in to see her sister.

She was lying on the infirmary table, covered with a blanket, her face pale and drawn, her long brown hair swept to the side and trailing off the table. The aura of green energy that always surrounded her, at least in her sister's eyes, was pale and flickering, telling Buffy just how close her only blood relative had come to death. She laid a hand on her sister's forehead, bringing herself in easier contact with the younger girl's mind.

_How you feelin', Dawnie?_ she asked silently.

_I got shot, Buff. How'd you think I would be feeling?_ her sister snarked back, her mental voice still weak and shaky. Buffy grinned.

_Obviously not too bad, if you can snipe at me._

_You think too loud._ This inner voice was one neither recognized, and Buffy looked up sharply.

Sitting on the counter on the other side of Dawn's bed, her legs drawn up under her, was a thin, ragged looking girl. She was dressed in a flowing chocolate-colored summer dress, and her wavy, stringy brown hair hung in her face. Buffy regarded her quizzically.

_You're a reader._

_Not like you,_ the girl replied. _I see, I hear, I know. I don't control. Why is she green?_

Buffy's mouth twitched. This was getting interesting. _She's always been green. No one but me has ever seen it._

_They're blind._ The girl looked up from Dawn, brown eyes meeting green. _I'm River._

_I'm Buffy. This is Dawn._

The girl cocked her head. _Your real names. But you trick them into thinking they're not._

_You're good._ Buffy said. She opened herself a little more to this strange girl, allowing both of them better access into the other's mind. _You're on the run._

_So are you._

_They did things to you._

_Like you. But you had an angel. I had only a brother._

_You're all jumbled up in here. You need some serious cabinetry to put your thoughts in._

For the first time, River's mouth quirked into the shadow of a smile. _They'll just jump out again._

_Not if you lock them. I'll show you._

Buffy stood, coming over to the younger girl and folding herself cross-legged onto the counter. River turned to face her. Gently, Buffy positioned her so the two were knee-to-knee and forehead-to-forehead. She placed River's right hand on the juncture of their knees, then set her own on the opposite side, her left hand settled onto River's right. River automatically placed her left onto Buffy's right.

Both girls closed their eyes.

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Mal escorted the redheaded pilot and her dark-haired crewmate to the infirmary. He didn't like having the entire crew of the Slayer, small though it was, aboard his boat; however Doc had said she couldn't be moved and far be it for him to come between a hurt girl and her crew. He knew, if it was Kaylee hurt in the infirmary of an unknown ship, he wouldn't feel right till he saw she was safe.

He noticed, as their made their way through the ship, that the two young people seemed to know exactly where they were going, and made a comment to that effect.

"Oh, we used to fly a Firefly." the girl, Willow, said. "She was our first boat. We salvaged her from a junkyard when we were 14. Took a couple years to make her work, but we did." The pride in her voice was tangible, as was the sorrow. The man, Xander, gave her a soft smile and squeezed her shoulder.

"What happened?" Mal asked, knowing he shouldn't and not being able to stop himself.

"Reavers." Xander said. "We were 18, been flying her for almost two years. Just short trade runs and such; but our hometown was pretty cut off and every little bit helped. They came in while we were away, burned the place to the ground, and caught us coming back in."

Mal looked at the innocent faces of these two young people, finding it hard to believe they had survived a Reaver attack. The soulful look they gave each other was familiar, though – it was the look Zoë gave him when someone brought up the war.

"How'd you survive?" He really, really shouldn't keep them talking about it. Really.

"We split up. The two of us took one shuttle and our other two crew members took the other. We both tried to lay low in the wreckage, hoping they wouldn't find us. We got lucky. They didn't."

The matter-of-fact way Willow talked about the death of her crew and destruction of her ship made Mal's skin crawl, but he didn't have time to think about it before they reached the infirmary.

Xander and Willow made straight for the prone girl's side. Mal looked around and was surprised to see River and Buffy, sitting on the counter in the corner, apparently asleep, their foreheads resting together.

"Ai ya," Mal swore, ducking out of the room quietly.

Simon was across the way, deep in conversation with Kaylee on the couch in the lounge. Mal wasted no time in striding over there, grabbing the smaller man by the arm and bodily lifting him off the couch.

"I thought I told you to keep your gorram sister hidden away?" Mal hissed. Simon's eyes widened, and he instinctively turned towards the infirmary, but Mal tightened his grip.

"Don't you try to fix it now – you move her now and you bring attention to her. I just hope she doesn't go attacking our guests with a butcher knife."

Willow and Xander came out of the infirmary at that moment, causing Mal to drop the doctor's arm and quickly clasp his hands behind his back.

"Are you Doctor Tam?" Willow asked.

Simon's eyes grew a little wider, but to his credit, he gave no other adverse reaction to hearing her speak his name. He nodded, once, almost imperceptibly, then jumped as she lunged at him.

"Thank you!"

Simon blinked, his brain still processing that she was not attacking him, but in fact hugging him tightly. Xander threw him a sympathetic look.

"Wil, the man needs to breathe."

"Oh! Yes. Sorry." She let him go, pulling away and twisting her fingers together nervously, a shy smile still on her lips. "I was just so relieved, you see. She's, well, she's very important to us."

"Um, yes, well," Simon stammered as Mal and Kaylee covered their amusement. "It was my pleasure," he finished. "She's far too young to die."

"She says thank you as well."

Everyone turned to look as Buffy and River, hand in hand, strolled out of the infirmary. River had a serene smile on her face, the one Simon hadn't seen since before she'd left for the Academy. His features softened and he was at her side in an instant.

"River? You alright?"

Her head drifted around to face him, and a slow smile crept over her features.

"I put it away, Simon. I made it and then I put it away, and I locked it and it won't bounce out anymore."

Normally Simon would have ignored this as more crazy talk, but River seemed more lucid than she had in a while, so he decided to ask.

"What, meimei? What'd you...put away?"

It was Buffy that answered him.

"A memory."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note:** Huh. Whaddya know, I actually have an idea of where this is going. Way to go, me.

Bet I'm just driving you crazy wondering how the Buffyverse people ended up in the future, huh? Don't worry, it will be explained – just not for a long, long ass time. Sorry.

**Disclaimer: ** Not mine, don't sue.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"So you're saying memories are like, what, files?" Simon asked, his arms tightening around his sister.

"Sort of. Well, no. Memories are memories, they're different for everyone." Buffy said, sitting on the couch on River's other side.

"I don't understand."

"Here. Let me show you." She placed one hand on Simon's and the other on River's shoulder.

With a flash, the scene around them changed. They were in a large, white space. All around them were datascreens, suspended in midair. Displayed on each was a different image.

"Where are we?" Simon asked. River cocked her head, looking up at him.

"We're in your mind, Simon. I always wanted to come in here."

"How – "

"She's strong. Stronger than I can be."

Buffy smiled a little and shook her head. "That's not true at all. With training you could be the strongest reader in the 'verse."

His mouth hanging open, Simon began walking slowly through the maze of viewscreens. Reaching out and touching one triggered it to play – a memory of the day his mother brought River home from the hospital.

"So this is how my mind works?"

Buffy nodded, coming to his side. "Everyone is different, like I said. You're organized and minimalist, and you like having everything at your fingertips. My uncle Rupert, his mind is like an old library from Earth-That-Was – comfortable and warm, with his memories in the thousands of books around him."

She beckoned River over and took their hands. The next instant they were in a dimly-lit, circular room, with filing cabinets stacked floor to ceiling as far up as Simon could see.

"This is my mind." Buffy said. "When I was young it was the home I grew up in, with memories just lying around, on the tables, on the floor... But now everything has to be tightly contained." She ran a hand over the lowermost cabinets. "These are the memories I need every day. How to talk, read, write, fight. People, places, things I need." She backed up a few steps, tilting her head back to look at the higher cabinets. "The higher up, the less I access them. The ones at the top are the ones I'd rather forget." Her mouth twitched. "I have to really work to get to those."

"Your mind...changed?" Simon asked. Buffy nodded.

"It had to." She pointed a slender finger at one of the higher drawers, and it opened. A plain filing folder floated down to her, and she handed it to Simon.

He opened it. Immediately he saw men in white coats and blue rubber gloves, smiling at him predatorily. He slammed the folder shut.

"You were in the Academy."

"For two years." she said, nodding. "This place had to be built so I could function in society."

"And...River could build a place like this?"

"If she doesn't, she'll never get better."

"They ripped down my walls." River put in, trailing her fingers down the black metal cabinets almost lovingly, not looking at him. "They ripped them down and stirred everything up." She looked up, holding out her hands. As one, Buffy and Simon put their hands in hers.

Suddenly wind was whipping around them, and with it images and sounds. Things brushed past them, pushing, stinging; smells and tastes of all sorts assaulted their senses. Simon whipped his head around, trying to keep up with what he was seeing, but all he could catch was the sounds of someone crying and a few fleeting images of blood and flesh. He screamed.

Then they were back on Serenity, alone in the lounge, sitting on the couch with their hands all intertwined.

"What the _go se_ was that?" Simon breathed.

"My mind." River said softly, her face buried in his shoulder.

"Oh, god."

Buffy disentangled herself as brother and sister fell into sobbing against each other. Simon finally understood exactly what had happened to his _meimei_, and he would be able to be there for her while she sorted that mess out.

Mission accomplished.

Letting one corner of her mouth quirk into a sad half-smile, Buffy left the room.

As soon as she closed the door to the lounge Mal was there, looming over her.

"The hell did you do to them?" he growled. Buffy looked up at him, quirking an eyebrow innocently.

"What do you mean?"

Mal's light blue eyes narrowed. "I hear Doc scream, and I come runnin'. I get here and they're sobbin' away and you're leaving with that damned little smile on your face. I seen many things but I ain't never seen the Doc cry, so you musta done _somethin'._"

Buffy cocked her head. "You're awfully protective of them. Something you're not telling me?" Mal's eyes widened and he moved lightning fast, darting his big hands out to wrap around her upper arms. He hauled her up on her toes and gave her a little shake.

"What the _go se_ is that supposed to mean?" he hissed.

She only regarded him carefully, and Mal got the uneasy feeling she was looking right through him.

"You care about them. Huh. Would never have thought a battle-hardened renegade captain like yourself would have taken them in."

Mal blinked in shock. Her estimation of him was a bit too close for comfort.

"River and I are a lot alike." Buffy said conversationally, as if nothing had happened. "Ripped away from our homes at a young age, pain, torture, mental instability..." Her gaze moved from his face to a point over his shoulder. "...a very overprotective family," she finished.

Mal turned to see the elder Giles leaning against the wall in the shadows at the other end of the corridor, his arms crossed over his chest. His air of mild gentlemanness was gone, replaced with something far darker.

"Oh, do go on." Giles said. "I so enjoy watching my niece be harassed by strapping young men twice her size." His voice was mild, non-committal, and Mal couldn't tell whether he was serious or not, something which put him much more off-balance than a simple threat.

"Giles, it's all right." Buffy said. A little part of Mal's brain thought it odd that she called her uncle by their shared last name, but the rest was too preoccupied with wondering why she was defending Mal against him.

The little blonde looked up at him, hazel eyes soft under thick lashes, and he suddenly was very aware that his hands were still wrapped around her upper arms in what must have been a bruising grip. He quickly dropped them to his sides, flushing a little at the amused half-smile that twisted her lips. Not since Saffron had a women kept him so completely off-balance.

"I'm a Reader," Buffy said by way of explanation. "Dawn is too. River was attracted to us. It's not her fault, and it's not Simon's."

Mal narrowed his eyes. "Don't recall ever telling you his name."

"Oh, for God's sake." Giles said, rolling his own hazel eyes. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out who they are. The man saved my niece's life. You have nothing to fear from us." His posture, which had relaxed when Mal had dropped his hands, somehow managed to become threatening again, even though the man didn't move. Zoë could do that. Mal had never learned how. "Unless we have a reason to make you fear us, of course."

How had he ever thought this man was mild-mannered? Times like this he wished Book or Inara were back on the ship. It was hard to be threatening in their presence.

"I spent two years at the Academy." Buffy said quietly. Mal almost felt his heart stop. "I know what River went through. I conquered it. I can help her."

Mal searched her gaze for a moment, unable to find any sign of falsehood.

"Sounds like you folks got quite a tale," he said finally. "Get yer crew and come down to the galley. I think I hear Kaylee making dinner. We'll have ourselves a good old-fashioned storytellin'."


End file.
